


Where do twenty questions lead? Death may know!

by Eyeseemore



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Master of Death Harry Potter, Some OC's because the story needs it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-17 10:01:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29839845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eyeseemore/pseuds/Eyeseemore
Summary: Harry meets Merle on a rooftop in Atlanta. After twenty questions, he finds himself enthralled with the gruff man and decides to follow him and his brother (and maybe their group).Or maybe, Death feels that Harry deserves a second – albeit fucked up – chance at life. Only Luna knows if Death knows what he is doing!Throw in a George, Ron, Draco, Daryl and Michonne and see what you will get.Some characters stay alive, other characters will die, albeit in a different way or for a different reason. A few OC’s, since there are some random characters and American witches and wizards.
Relationships: Daryl Dixon/Harry Potter, Maggie Greene/Glenn Rhee, Merle Dixon & Harry Potter, Merle Dixon/Carol Peletier, Neville Longbottom/Luna Lovegood, Rick Grimes/Michonne
Comments: 27
Kudos: 141





	1. Twenty questions while the death walk?

**Author's Note:**

> So ... thanks to the lovely Salllzy, I was able to have the confidence to write a full story in English. She has decided to beta for me and I'm really glad that she did. 
> 
> Salllzy; your input was/is really invaluable for the story and I'm glad you're going to be helping me through out this journey! Dankjewel :) (Means thanks in Dutch)
> 
> If you have read my one-shot of Twenty questions, than you will recognize some of it in the first chapter. This is just the 'complete' work! 
> 
> I'm sorry if some language can be offensive to you, but Merle is somebody who also curses in the series, so I decided to keep that. It fits his personality. The same with Ron as well. 
> 
> Enjoy!

The man standing at the rooftop wasn’t a young boy or teenager anymore. Far from that. Harry was no longer The-Boy-Who-Survived, no longer a husband, a brother, or a friend. He wasn’t even the Master of Death right now. He was no longer Lord Harry James Potter-Black. It was easier in this world nowadays to not be himself.

Not that he liked himself most of the time, he only liked Harry in this life. Now he didn’t have to be anyone else but himself, he could be just Harry or Hadrian for strangers. For as long as he remembered he had always been someone else; freak, Saviour, the Boy-Who-Lived, war hero, boyfriend. Now, none of that mattered.

Harry looked around the charred remains of the city that used to be Atlanta and listened to the sounds of the walking dead around him. He could not make out any people that were alive. The dead had started walking, a few months back. It had reminded him of the inferi, yet it was completely different. As the Master of Death, Harry had known something was coming, he had felt it in his bones, his complete being, his soul. Harry’s soul felt the dead around him as it was its own. The despair, the clawing, the darkness, and yet there was always that proverbial white light at the end of the tunnel.

Draco, being his pratty self, had demanded his presence after Harry did another disappearance stunt, as Draco started calling it. Harry, reluctantly so, had warned his closest friends about his premonitions, the ones who were still with him after the second war and the clean-up of the Death Eaters. Draco had been let off easy, with the memories from Harry, Severus, and Hermione. 

Draco had touched his shoulder that evening and told him that he had already started prepping. Neville, who had arrived as quickly as Draco had sent his Patronus messenger, nodded his head at the gathered group. They weren’t kidding, they had prepped for an apocalypse. Probably Luna’s fault, Harry thought, his mind not on this planet anymore, as Death would occupy his time, now and then.

“You had enough on your plate already, mate,” he had registered Ron’s voice, but he couldn’t pinpoint it anymore. The life he had built for the last five years, had just gone to hell and back again; again. He should be used to it, but was he?

After the war, Ginny had pestered him for a marriage suddenly and he still couldn’t believe it. Marry her? While not having finished his education or enjoying that he was alive? Even finding out what he wanted in life? Was he even straight? Was he gay, was he anything? Harry didn’t know anything anymore, but grief, after he had defeated Voldemort.

He had decided that he loved Ginny as a sister, a valued friend. Ginny unfortunately did not feel the same way and gave him more hell than necessary. Ron had to fight his full family except for himself and Mr. Weasley and practically the whole wizarding world for Harry’s sanity and Harry had felt the guilt run through his full body, but Ron told him that he would stand by him. He would be there for him, no matter what. He and Harry were mates, no matter what. And Harry knew that to be the truth.

Hermione on the other hand had not taken Harry’s freedom year well, after trying to bully him into going back to Hogwarts, because that was what he needed according to her. It was anything but what he needed. Every time he saw the forest, he did not see the beauty of the trees and flora anymore, but the dirt and grime. He saw blood, severed people, blown away by one curse or another. Harry saw himself die, saw himself become the Master of Death, he saw everything but the home the castle had provided for him the last six years. Whenever he saw the gates of Hogwarts, they didn’t open the way to home, but the home to a graveyard.

Too many people had died that day, too many souls had been lost. Some would say that he was the hero, but as far as he was concerned, the heroes had died on that damned battlefield. He was lucky to make it through the hell that had been the Last Battle, he had buried far too many friends and family members. Tonks, Remus, Fred. Those people were the real heroes! All because of one crazy wizard, Teddy was an orphan.

Harry knew that he still suffered. Astoria, Scorpius’ mother had helped him a bit here and there, however, since Harry wasn’t ready to talk about it all, he had not been ready to heal and he needed to heal. He did take his N.E.W.T.’s at the ministry, with the help of Minerva, Filius, and Severus. He just did not tell Hermione or anyone else for that matter. 

Ron, Draco, and Neville often reminded him that he could pause, wait and heal, but Harry did not want to wait, he wanted to live. Do something with his life. And now it seemed as if fate had made yet another decision for him and he just rolled with the punches.

“Mate?” He recognized Ron’s voice, but it didn’t register. “Harry.” The redhead called out again, a hand softly leaning on Harry’s shoulder accompanying the calling of the name.

“Yeah, sorry,” Harry turned around.

“Why are we here?” he vaguely waved around the rooftops. Their dragon hide cloaks embedded with various charms such as a cooling charm, waved in the wind and Harry smiled at his magical lifelong friend.

“Because I feel someone who is in desperate need, I just need to pinpoint where.” Harry hummed under his breath, trying to stay in touch with his gifts, while Ron just shrugged. Harry’s newfound family knew to let him be, they were used to Harry being like this now. They didn’t try to change Harry, as far as they were concerned, Harry was fine the way he was.

“Alright mate, let me know if I can help.” Ron knew that once Harry made up his mind, the Gryffindor in him came out and nothing could change his mind.

Then he heard it. It was a soft whimper and then suddenly Death was standing beside him. Death was an energy, a lifeform without a form, but very visible to its ‘Master’. Harry nodded in agreement and pointed at another roof, a few buildings ahead. They apparated, Ron with a louder pop than Harry, while Harry left with nothing more than a soft acknowledgement of air moving.

The man on the roof was chained to a pipe and trying to saw off his hand. While Ron had his wand in hand and stood on the look-out, Harry didn’t even bother with his wand and waved softly to open the lock on the cuff, and he helped the man into a slumber. Being who he was, he had gotten quite strong. Magical and not so magical wise. The scrawny teenager was gone although he never reached the heights he should have, according to Minerva.

“Take it home, I will bring him where he must be. I need to look as muggle as possible.” The burly man was rambling to himself, Harry was barely able to understand anything that the man was saying, it was all gibberish to him. While Harry, who was still invisible, threw his invisibility cloak at Ron. He wasn’t going to need it if he was mingling with muggles. He always preferred the more Muggle-like looks, so his dragon hide battle robe would look like a regular, long leather jacket.

“Don’t you think Draco should look at that wound?” Ron wasn’t the best with healing spells and he figured that it might be time to invest in some muggle methods, he couldn’t always rely on Draco for everything. That would be a liability in this world.

“No, this guy might register as a squib, but I don’t know how much they know. He didn’t get far because I compelled him. The wound isn’t deep, I’ll bandage it with some muggle bandages; Severus taught me. Make sure you raid all the shops Ron; we need all the extras we can get our hands on. Muggle and magical.” Harry checked the man’s pulse and looked back at his best friend since he was eleven. “Did you take the list Severus and I made? Use the cloak and please stay safe.”

“No worries mate, I got it. I’ll take George with me; we have practically cleared the whole Alley. I know what to do, Harry. You take care of your pet project. Still Auror trained mate,” Ron paused with a laugh while he threw the cloak around him. A cloak he was way too familiar with. “Have your portkey ready just in case and we’ll be there whenever you signal.”

Harry just nodded. They clapped hands, the unconscious man in his arms and Ron left with his distinct ‘pop’. Harry looked at the older man and sighed. Luna would say that his saviour complex was at fault here, but he just could not help it. Death did not help at all either. Pestering idiot. Harry sighed, took a deep breath, and let his wand fall in his right hand from its holster, the man would not notice.

With a quiet legilimens, he entered the man’s surface thoughts, careful not to go any further. Briefly, vague thoughts had shown him that the man; ‘Merle’, had a brother and in these times, family was the one worthy thing. People were much more important than petty squabbles or political differences. He saw an escape plan designed by Merle, the one he was holding now, and got a good visual of where the car was situated.

He broke the charm easily and moments later he apparated them to the car. A soft wave of his hand and the car was quickly unlocked without problems. He carefully levitated the man in his care inside it, at the backseat, so he could sleep. Harry cast the strongest set of notice-me-not charms and wards that he knew of and then proceeded to take care of the incoming group of death. Being the Master of Death sometimes had its advantages; Harry felt dead to the inferi. They had not noticed him until now. Death’s aura was his own now and wound tightly around his magic.

He counted a few handfuls, but since the man in the car was still out and would not wake up until Harry lifted one of the wards, he used his wand instead of the knives he kept on his person. He had come quite proficient at that but magic always would come easier. He threw a few slicing hexes around, practically killing the inferi within seconds of being hit by his magic. He should thank Severus and George for that handiwork. It was a bit dark, but he figured that the ministry would be too busy to check on foreign wizards in the muggle world. Harry didn’t care about dark or light magic; all magic could be used to kill or maim. The easiest household charm could ruin more than a dark ward. Now with death coursing through his body and soul, Harry knew he wasn’t light anymore. Not at all.

He lifted a few wards, crept into the passenger seat, and leaned back. He could not drive since nobody had bothered to teach him. Not that he expected Vernon to do so, yet he found it annoying now. He should have known how to do so, then the man would have been back at the camp he had seen in his head. Now he had to wait until Merle woke up.

After he was seated, he threw a ward stone on the dashboard, which replaced the immediately draining magic and took over. This one was George and Luna’s idea; it didn’t have a heavy pull on his magic – although with Harry’s reserves, that never bothered him – and had some extras built in like a sneak-o-scope and several other detections that had proven useful.

§§§§§

Merle woke up with a headache, a stiff one. Like he had drunk too much, took some coke, and stayed out all night. His mind was fuzzy and his memories even more. His mouth was dry as if he smoked a whole cassette of cigarettes. He smelt the insides of the car he found a few nights ago, so he and Daryl could flee if necessary, and when he looked at his right hand, it was still there. It was bandaged but still attached.

He remembered a roof, being handcuffed and that goddamn nigger and then a soft voice; foreign and different. Then, as his memories came rushing back like a bat at the head at the bar, he noticed the younger man sitting in the passenger seat, asleep. He recognized the dark-haired stranger from the roof, but the rest was foggy. The raven-haired male must have rescued him and stopped him from cutting his hand. He got up slowly and sat upright.

“Good morning.” Spoke the stranger, his eyes still closed. 

The man wasn’t asleep then, Merle pondered on the British accent a bit, but decided against running just yet. A man that helped him get of that stupid roof, away from the nigga and officer friendly, that was a plus in his head.

“Mornin’ sunshine,” he paused, just to see a soft smile on the strangers’ face. A young man with haunted, green eyes, looking much older than necessary. “What ya doing here with ol’ Merle in a car?”

“I’m Hadrian.”

“Merle,” chuckled Merle with his raspy voice and he was handed a canteen of water. “But ya did not answer my question.”

“You need to be back with your family, I guess. I couldn’t leave you there after I found you.” The man’s voice was kind, yet his demeanour that of a trained soldier. Vigilant.

“Thank you for saving ol’ Merle from them geeks. Guess ol’ Merle owes you one now, eh?” Merle hated owing people favours or debts, society had never been kind to him or his brother and for as long as he could remember they had been shunned, it had made him bitter and less quick to trust someone.

“No and you’re welcome,” Harry gave him some wrapped food and handed another canteen over that Merle recognised to be used for camping trips. “I’ll help you get back and then I will return to my family as well.”

“Alright then, thanks.” Merle didn’t know what to say and instead began to gulp down the water and enjoyed the sandwich he was handed. It had some meat with tomatoes and cucumber on it. He couldn’t complain at all, this would beat squirrel stew any day.

When he saw no crazy geeks outside, he got out and took the driver’s seat, and turned the key in the ignition to drive away. A chance was a chance after all, and Merle never said no to that. “You comin’ along for the ride?”

The man just nodded affirmatively.

§§§§§

“It’s still a few miles away, wanna play a game?” Merle asked the silent man next to him after a while. He was a strange fellow, walking in this goddamn heat with a long leather jacket and apparently a black button-up underneath it. The green cargo pants with black leather boots were no stupid choice, he reckoned.

“Sure.” The man opened his eyes again and then spoke, his voice still husky as if he had just woken up.

“Twenty questions?” It was a fairly simple game, probably nothing too offensive.

“Alright then, mate.”

Merle wasn’t going to turn down the chance to gather some information on his saviour. Hadrian just laughed softly and leaned back in the car seat. If one ignored the fact that the dead were walking and he had tried to saw his hand off, it was a rather pleasant day.

“One; why are you escorting a stranger to his brother? Unarmed at that!” Merle wasn’t going to make himself worry over a stranger even though that he had saved his lily white arse. But it didn’t change the fact that this man had been able to save his sorry arse. He did not want to repeat the experience if the guy could not defend himself.

“I’m not unarmed,” Hadrian smiled and rubbed his right wrist. He pulled the jacket back, to show a few knives on his belt. “And yes, I’m good with them. My turn: why did you get cuffed to the roof?”

“Aye, slinging the biggies first, eh?” Merle adjusted the visor so the sun would not get to his eyes as much. He had to find some sunglasses somewhere. “Fought with a nigga, he didn’t like me and officer friendly cuffed me.”

“A police officer cuffed you? During the bloody apocalypse?” The Brit’s accent became clearer as he cussed, and Merle just nodded.

“Aye.” Despite having only known the other for an incredibly short time it warmed the cold corners of his heart as he realised that Hadrian was angry on his behalf.

“Okay, well. So yes. Next one’s on you.” Harry looked out of the window as he thought over what he had just been told, how could anyone do that? Especially with what was going on?

“Wher’ you from?” Merle took an exit and drove around to avoid being seen on the main road. The escape car had been on the other side of Atlanta, just to be safe. Daryl and him hadn’t known what to make of the group, but they liked to keep their options open.

“England, lived the majority in Scotland in my youth and afterwards I moved to London, as every teenager does with a midlife crisis.” Harry opened the third canteen of water, that he somewhat miraculously pulled from the leather bag he had in his lap. “Were you drunk?”

“High. Needed to blow off some goddamn steam. Geeks are walking dude, walking!” Somehow this man made him wanna talk and Merle just blamed the sun, the drugs, and the weird combination of it all. He took a deep breath. “Three. Who’s waiting for you?” Merle was reluctantly enjoying himself, not that he was going to tell anyone that though. Not even Daryl.

“Geeks? My best friends and their spouses. You?” Harry watched as some clouds floated over them, it was so strange not seeing anything living but them.

“Yeah, Geeks, walking corpses. What do you call them? And that’s your third question? And that’s your answer?” Merle smiled to himself, while looking out on the road.

“Yep,” the man rolled the ‘p’ and smiled. “We call them inferi, undead, but Walkers seems just as fitting.”

Merle grunted and rolled his shoulders. “My brother, Daryl. How did you end up here in good ol’ America?”

“Work and my family visited me for a holiday.” Harry winced at the thought of the chaos that had happened while they had been visiting him. Although Ron had changed to his Auror mode immediately and of all people, Luna had taken charge, he still wished it wasn’t so.

“Some holiday that turned out to be, then ha!” Despite how serious the situation was, Merle tried to lighten it a little, he knew what it was like to worry over family. He had constantly worried over Daryl. Might not have made the best choices himself, but worried nonetheless.

The Brit smiled and the twinkle in his eye was very visible. “My brother says it’s my family luck.”

“Some luck that is then, sunshine.” Merle snorted as he considered what sort of shitty luck the other must have if this happened to him.

The quarry came in sight, and Harry sat upright, his left hand nonchalantly holding a knife. Merle never saw him pull it. “Save the rest of the questions for a later time, will you?”

“Sure thing, mister Brit.” Merle figured he needed some extra sleep, after he kicked officer friendly around a bit, the asshole. Cuffin’ him to that fuckin’ pip. He pulled the car over on the side of the road behind the others and got out of it. The camp’s hustle and bustle stopped, as Merle hollered for Daryl, who slowly turned around from being held by the deputy and officer friendly.

§§§§§

Harry had been amused by the rough looking guy and his seemingly soft appearance. He leaned on the car and watched the image of people moving before him after Merle hollered at his brother; “Darileena, are ye comin’ to say somethin’ to yer brother?”

Harry shook his head and pushed himself off the car so that he could walk out and apparate to his safehouse. He was called back by one of the men with a shotgun. 

“You!” the taller one of the two stood before him in a few strides. “Where are you going?”

“Home.” Harry just shrugged his shoulders and reached in his leather coat for a leather cuff that had found somewhere and admired. He enchanted it quickly with a few thumb strokes and carved a few runes in there, that he learned from Luna. He couldn’t deal with people right now; he had been out enough. He needed to fly and bother Draco or Severus for a whole evening, to vent.

“Merle!” the gruff man turned around, after having given his brother a somewhat awkward man hug.

“Yeah, sunshine?” Merle turned towards him.

“Here,” Harry walked towards him, “If you ever find yourself on a rooftop again, just touch that and think of me, okay?”

“Will do, sunshine,” The man fastened the cuff on his left hand and smiled. “Don’t forget, you still owe me fifteen questions!” Merle wasn’t going to let the other man forget, even if they didn’t meet up again at any point. It was still something that he could tray and hold the other to even if it never happened.

Harry smiled, clapped the bigger man’s shoulder and waved at him. “See you on the other side, Merle!” He ignored the rest of the men and women and with a flick of his hand only Merle would realise that he was walking away. Harry loved magic.


	2. A place to call my own

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the love and kudos go to the lovely Salllzy for helping me through it all. 
> 
> We have to go back a little, to understand the future. Let me know if you enjoy this Harry. He's powerful, but also flawed. Merle will alter his language in the story, but that needs a bit of time, space, and perhaps some love.

Death had been very adamant for the few last days. Annoyingly so. The sentient presence had wormed its way in his magic and Harry answered. That was rule number one: if Death wanted something, Harry had to listen. Another aggravating thing about Death; it had rules. The how and why Death had rules Harry wasn’t willing to try and wrap his head around it.

The first time Harry had seen Death, it had appeared as Headmaster Dumbledore at Kings Cross why Death had chosen that form Harry would never really know, and Death didn’t give a reason either, so Harry was content to leave it be for now. Death seemed to enjoy having Harry as clueless as possible in the beginning. The second time it had looked like it had no gender, like it was no person. Nowadays it was just Death, an entity. Harry was crazy enough to believe it anyway, it had told him, and it did not need to materialize. Great, just great. Harry sometimes felt like he went from a regular ‘freak’ to an even bigger ‘freak’. 

He had walked out of the quarry after casting a quick notice-me-not on the campsite, relieved that Merle had found his brother. It felt good seeing the two men hug each other happily, albeit may it be an awkward hug. He had given Merle a tracker, if Merle were ever in danger of some sort, Harry would know. He did not know why he did that; the man had done nothing for him, yet his magic had reacted, and Harry knew from experience that you needed to listen to your magic. Magic was sentient, just like the wanker that called itself Death. Everything always seemed to go back to Death. Although, if Harry thought hard about it, that was the truth. Life was a cycle and death played a big part in that. It was the nature of things.

Death could feel magic, and sometimes the fucker would actually talk to him or in his own words; ‘choose to relay some information’. Harry had realised that Death was the sole reason for Harry’s bad mouth as of late. Ron loved it since he cussed to himself, Draco scoffed at it, Luna just smiled at him whenever he was busy, and Severus would still slap the back of his head if he caught him. Harry hadn’t known when it really started or maybe it was just part of him not being ‘The-Man-Who-Conquered’. He didn’t really care; he liked the new Harry or as others knew him now: Hadrian. 

After walking a few kilometres into the woods, he let his wand fall out of the holster and cast a revealing charm that Luna had come up with. No inferi, no people and no large animals in the vicinity; he could safely apparate. He did so with barely any noise and landed on one of the apparition points that George and Luna had set up between the hefty wards. This one was close to the small manor and far away enough from their muggle compound, so that they could not be seen, in case the wards would fail or fall. Not that he expected that, not with the brilliance cursing through his new family. But it never hurt to be over prepared than under prepared. There were many ways to get around wards, something Harry had known from his own experience.

Harry walked across the stables to the smaller manor that was surrounded by the massive acres and acres of land. Although they had built a bigger manor, or the ‘real’ manor as Draco liked to put it, Harry and his new family members unanimously decided to live at the smaller, older manor that had been warded by a Peverell before Harry. The medieval wizard must have been beyond paranoid, but Harry liked it, a lot! The wards felt comforting, like a warm blanket around his shoulders. The way his invisibility cloak did even more with every passing day.

§§§§§

The moment that Harry had defeated the Dark Lord, or in his words; died by the hands of Tom Marvolo Riddle just to have to kill the tosser afterwards, the Wizarding World had let loose a breath that they did not know they had held. It didn’t take very long for the world to return to normal or as normal as they could be. Harry was happy for the public, yet it rubbed him the wrong way the way they behaved as if nothing had happened.

The first weeks the Prophet screamed how thankful they were for ‘Lord Potter-Black’ and everybody hoped that he would take over for minister or head of the Auror department. When he did not do any of that in the first year, people were disappointed. When he didn’t respond to all their letters, they stopped writing. Somehow along the way, his general appearance, and the fact that he did not wear his glasses anymore, courtesy of one very special potion master, made him the new Dark Lord or the new Merlin reincarnated.

Harry couldn’t decide which was more fun. Ron swore that he was their saviour, while he snorted and ate a full plate of breakfast that Harry made that morning, before running off to the store. Draco had gulped his morning tea, devoured his poached egg, and had hoped for Harry to become a new Dark Lord. His smile had been contagious.

§§§§§

Harry had become Lord Hadrian James Potter-Black. He had found out that his father had named him Hadrian, but his mother had insisted on calling him Harry. He liked both and now used Hadrian for official business. He had not cut his hair completely after the battle. He decided he liked it even longer than before and wore it in a bad ass ponytail, like Bill did. It was less unruly now and a bit more tamed because of the length. With the lack of his glasses, his eyes shone either very bright or a dangerous ‘avada kedavra’-green. Draco teased him about that mercilessly. 

Draco had taken the opportunity to dress Harry as a lord and just to annoy Ron, Harry had brought his best mate along for the ride. Ron had protested at first but had to give in after being pestered by the blonde as well. Draco choosen the best of the best materials for their new robes, daily wear, dress robes, and battle gear. The blonde savoured every moment and even went as far as to choose the crimson, blood red battle dressings for Ron, with brown pants and boots. For Harry, it had turned mostly black, with green dress shirts and ties. Harry had gifted a few sets of potioneer robes to Severus as a silent show of gratitude. He had received a case of calming draughts without a note, two days later.

After Ron’s declarations of support for Harry and against marrying Ginny, the Burrow had been full of tension, and in the end; there had been an all-out fight. It had taken Bill and Charlie to get Ron out alive, and into Georges apartment. Harry had invited Ron to Grimmauld place after George fire called him, and it had only taken three years before Draco stood at his doorstep as well. The marriage had been a known farce, he and Astoria had done what was needed; make an heir, and Draco was now done with living for others. He provided for Astoria because he cared a lot for her, yet did not feel comfortable to live under his fathers eyes.

When their Saviour had not returned to Hogwarts after the repairs, people started to stop corresponding. Harry was just fine with that. Minerva McGonagall had taken over as Headmistress for Hogwarts and urged him to at least finish his education at home. It took her a few floo calls to Grimmauld place and a letter here and there from Draco, but in the end she succeeded. Maybe it was because he could not say ‘no’ to the Scottish woman, maybe that was just the case, or perhaps it had nothing to do with Death whining about finishing his education while he slept. Which without doubt led to his sleepless nights. He had sent Minerva a few cases of his finest firewhiskey that the Black and Potter estates offered after his informal graduation dinner with his tutors, Draco, George, Ron, Luna and Neville.

Minerva herself, Filius, Pomona and Severus had helped him with his last miles; they understood the fact that Harry was tired. They understood that a lot of manipulation had happened, and that Harry needed his own time and his own freedom. They had also seen that Harry was more intelligent than he had shown. All those years trying to be less than Dudley would do that to you.

Severus had survived the shack and Nagini’s attack, albeit his voice was now gruff, and he had added another scar to his vast collection that already littered his body. Harry had flagged Madam Pomfrey the moment he had left the shack, to find old Voldy, and had hoped for the best. Severus’ fate had been a mystery at the end of the battle. Harry had not dared to ask. After a month of freedom, locked up with several bottles of firewhiskey at Grimmauld with only Kreacher, and Ron, Draco, and Lucius for his daily visitors, he had received a package with a sobering potion, and a list of ingredients and materials. The card had a very distinct handwriting.

_Lord Potter-Black,_

_I did not try my best efforts to save you all these years to see you drown yourself in vast spirits. They might be a nice companion for one night, just not every day. Listen to my godson, take the potion, and let Mr. Weasley do what he thinks is best. If you ever tell him that I said this, I will deny it to my dying day (and we both know how bad we are at dying, aren’t we, Lord Potter-Black)._

_I expect you at the apothecary shop in Hogsmeade at 13.00u. on monday. You have an education to finish, even if the rest of the world seems to deny that. Miss Envel knows you are on your way. Bring your supplies and dress decent. I expect to see the real Hadrian Potter-Black, not that drivel you showed while in Hogwarts._

_Regards,  
Potion Master Snape_

Harry still had a baffled look on his face, knowing that it must have been either Draco or Minerva who arranged such a thing for him. Somewhere in his mind, even after viewing Snape’s memories. Even though they had tried to bury the hatchet between them, Harry knew that it wasn’t possible to get rid of all the years of hurt and anger between them, for as long as he could remember they had always been enemies. So, he sincerely doubted that the man had been willing to do this by himself. 

If he only knew. 

§§§§§

After the battle, Harry had found a frazzled Draco in the arms of his mother and father. Harry had taken a deep breath and extended his hand, a mirror action of Draco’s almost seven years before.

“Maybe we need a second chance, Heir Malfoy.” Nobody could say that the lessons Sirius had taught him were gone. Although they had been in contact, Harry needed to fix this openly, with the use of proper forms of address and all that. The last few years Harry had just needed to have people think differently because he had a role to play in the war. He held out Draco’s wand in his other hand, flat on his palm and smiled. “Thank you for your help in defeating Voldemort, Heir Malfoy. I could not have done it without your wand.”

Draco had looked up, his face still ashy and his blond hair dirty with blood, debris. Tear streaks visible on his face, his clothing completely dishevelled. 

“Maybe we do, Lord Potter-Black, maybe we do.” He had smiled and reluctantly taken his wand back. “Although I do believe this one won’t work for me anymore.”

“It isn’t mine, maybe you will find one that suits you better.”

“Thank you, Hadrian.” The soft voice from Lady Malfoy was genuine and Harry nodded.

“For you Lady Malfoy, it’s Harry.” He smiled at the beautiful woman. “Lord Malfoy, thank you.”

“You are very welcome. If you need any tutoring in any area, you may let me know. I believe the former lord Black taught you a few tricks, but there is more to know. You have done this country a great service, that debt must be repaid.”

“Just take care of our mutual friend.” He knew that Lucius was a close friend of Severus, and he knew that his old professor needed all the help he could get right now.

“I will,” whispered Narcissa, “We will.”

Harry had walked off to find Hermione and Ron in yet another fight. Maybe it was for the best that they did not date any longer. He smiled and felt the presence of his sister-in-all-but-blood next to him.

“Hello Harry.” Her dreamy voice managed to make him smile every day.

§§§§§

Sirius was a genius or rather had been. A genius with trauma’s and undealt problems; PTSS as the muggles called it, but a genius nonetheless. That summer, between the third and fourth year, he had corresponded with Harry through letters, and a special notebook. After the Triwizard tournament, he had taken him to Gringotts and explained almost everything as good as he could.

That year Harry officially became Heir Potter and Heir Black, and if anything happened to Sirius, he would be Lord Black as well. Even if he was not technically of age yet at that point. His Potter Lordship would come later, or he would be able to claim it after his Black lordship. He had worn the heir rings with a hefty concealment charm after that meeting, courtesy of the Goblins.

Somehow Lucius Malfoy had found out, and during Harry’s and Draco’s fourth year their fights had become more and more staged. It became difficult to fight if you would leave the other man a letter every now and then. Or asked him for advice on defence in Draco’s case, or maybe just update him on the course work that they did in the DA. Draco was creative with his hexes, nothing ever hit him personally, and Harry just used his ‘infamous’ temper to land him detentions with Snape, who would tutor Harry in defence and potions. Harry always thought that it had been Dumbledore’s plan all along, little did he know that it was Sirius and Narcissa’s.

Sirius had taken to the Lordship with a flourish that nobody had expected, and had read his way through the Black library when no-one looked. There he had found something interesting; all who carried the Black blood, would not be able to go against him. Old Black rules, regulations and old blood enchantments that came from a Black lord a few centuries ago. This meant that Draco, Narcissa and Bellatrix would not be able to harm him. Andromeda or Nymphadora neither.

Sirius often apologized for everything after the Triwizard tournament; Harry’s youth, his upbringing, Sirius own madness (the Black madness, as Draco called it), the things Sirius did not do but had wanted to, and the way Dumbledore had meddled in his life. Harry had forgiven him. He had accepted his life the way it was mainly after reading Sirius will, and by becoming lord Black. The way had been opened to accept his Lordship for the Potter estates as well. He had not told a single soul, save from Ron, and Draco who both swore an oath to keep Harry safe as much as they could.

Ron, the strategist of the ‘Golden Trio’, had taken his fourth year, when he was fighting with Harry over the tournament, to think things through and had some interesting conclusions. The Ron that had come to him, apologized, asked for another chance and a chance to do better, was no longer a boy but became a man who stood by Harry’s and Hadrian’s side no matter what.

Harry and Hermione stayed good friends through it all, but he felt a gap between them all because Hermione accepted everything Dumbledore said like it was written in the bible and was the gospel truth. Sirius had commented that Remus was very much the same. They were fine friends, but not the ones you would tell your heart’s desires or your secrets too. Over time, in Harry’s mind, Hermione was replaced by Draco, that had been a startling shock to him when he had first figured it out.

§§§§§

Luna stood on the lookout for Harry; her blond hair woven into braids that were almost angelic looking in the bright sunlight of that day. Her light blue battle robes were crisp and clean, the flowers in her hair looked as if she got them yesterday. He knew for a fact that she had worn them for the last few weeks. Neville planted them when he had started the gardens, and they had been from the first harvest. Now that they could not sell the flowers anymore, Neville used them to decorate both manors. It may be something small, but it helped the survivors to have a bit of normalcy in their lives.

“Harry!” she squealed and hugged him tightly. “Was Death right?”

Harry just smiled at her, and with a flick of his wand he dropped his glamours so that he looked more like the powerful wizard he was than the muggle he had been portraying. Death’s symbol, the coat of arms of the Peverell’s clearly visible on his right wrist like a branded tattoo, his pale complexion mixed with his very green orbs that saw everything. Death’s brand did take away the scars from the blood quill, because of the dark magic that inhabited it. Death magic was the only dark magic that was permitted on Harry’s body from now on.

“Isn’t the bloody bugger always?” He sighed while letting his body, and magic relax. The wards were so strong that even someone as vigilant as Harry did not need to keep up his protections constantly.

Luna hummed a soft tune under her voice and took his left hand. Harry did not know how, what, or why, but Luna always knew. He hadn’t even told her that he became the Master of Death and one night, Luna had looked at him with those beautiful light blue orbs of hers and declared that even a Master of Death had to live his own life. She declared it like it had been a regular thing to say, and then just went on with her story about the bowtruckles she had found in the woods close by the river. 

They walked together in silence to the smaller manor that stood proud on the land. Harry called it a manor; Draco would still argue that it was a house. Apparently the Peverell’s had been richer in land and estates than money, something the Black and Potter vaults more than made up for with their gold. A few of those plots had been in America and Australia, making it a perfect escape route for Harry.

“Marriet and Severus are requesting a war council, are you coming along?” Luna hopped alongside him, petting a few birds that flew her way.

“Naturally, my sister-dear, lead the way.” Although they could apparate on the magical grounds, just not into every piece of the ground, Harry liked to walk. That was his way to get his mind straight and he could ponder on the last three days that he had been in the field himself. Often Ron and Draco took care of the supply runs, so Harry could manage the base of operations, as Marriet had started calling it.

“Did master Vilnuk made it back, safely?” Harry remembered that the contractor had been searching for his family.

“I believe so, he only brought his little brother along.” Luna answered, while seemingly looking distracted at Harry’s head. “Do remember to watch for Vilkies Harry, don’t let them take over!”

Harry, used to Luna’s way of speech, just nodded.

“The wrackspurts are gone then?”

“No, not at all, but they are not dangerous. You should know that my dear Harry.” She hummed a tune under her voice.

“Thank you for looking out for us, my sister-dear.” Harry halted her for a moment and kissed the top of her head.

§§§§§

Lucius had been the one to suggest it. He should take a break, investigate his properties, and enjoy life for a bit. Well suggested, the Lord of the Malfoy estate had practically ordered him to do so after his 25th birthday. Harry had taken that suggestion to heart eventually and became a nomad after his 26th birthday. Every week he would have a friend or an acquaintance that would visit him, wherever he was at that moment. Harry speculated that Ron and Draco had set something up, the two men fast becoming friends after living together at Grimmauld place. They both realised that their lives were different than they expected or had hoped for and tried to do better than before by being at least civil to each other, only if it was just for their mutual friend whom they considered a brother.

Harry found a manor on a plot of land between Macon and Athens in the state of Georgia in the U.S.A., across a wild reserve border, that was as unplottable as it could get. The magic was old. Having nothing much to do and already leaving Grimmaulds to Ron in his will, Harry decided to build another fortress there. It was completely off-grid and needed no output from the outside if Harry decided to get away for a while.

The estate was gigantic and had two small rivers ripple through it that came from the wildlife reserve that belonged to Harry as well. The complete area was warded and there were some house elves who took care of the property, lands, and animals. The water divided the land in three parts. The smaller part had been used to live upon. It had the most amenities and housed the original Peverell manor. The middle part, between the two rivers that flew through his estate, had been nature all around. A group of trees, some fruit trees, a little bit of wizarding forest, with woods that Harry had started harvesting for his wands, and enough green that even Neville would not complain. 

Harry had bought an extra piece of land that was for sale right next to the bigger river, so nobody would be able to stumble upon him. He was now surrounded by woods, water, and land completely. George and Ron, who had become ward specialists, warded every bit of land left of the bigger river to be unplottable for any muggles or unwanted guests.

He had restored the older manor to his taste, so that he could live there, and have guests over to his wishes and needs. He had built a little porch that looked towards the river and the bigger manor, and on the other side a sunroom with a little sunroom full of plants, that oversaw the quidditch field. The house elves had been ecstatic that he had arrived and saw to everything he needed. Harry had relieved Kreacher and made him his personal elf. Somewhere along the years, the little thing warmed up towards Harry and actually took care of him now.

Harry sent two younger families of elves to Grimmauld place that he found among his estates, to take care of Ron and Draco, and sold of a big estate in Australia that was not to his taste. He had a few townhouses if needed in the country. It was Neville who taught him how to take care of the elves, helped him talk to the elders and distribute them evenly, so they could mix with each other and mate for younglings. He appointed Kreacher as the head elf and somehow that fixed the last of his problems with the grumpy elf.

He hired a goblin construction company to help build a big manor, when he still had the idea that he would live there and offer his family members their own wing or place within it. Goblin magic made it easier to expand rooms or throw your own magic at it. Their plumbing was exceptional and barely needed repairs. It made for a sentient building, just like Hogwarts. It had become quite a big one, with two towers and a large courtyard for a simple walk. It had three levels; a basement which housed a large potion lab, potion cupboard, duellist area’s and big deposits for all the stuff Ron and Draco had been hoarding as of late. Shrunken they could fit even more, but some items were delicate. Although the potion cupboard was more a deposit than a cupboard, since it was as large as the complete Dursley’s house altogether.

The first floor had a communal living room with kitchen, rooms for the elves and a ballroom with an attached pub. Somehow Draco had sneaked that one in the drawings without him knowing. The second floor held four large apartments with all the facilities that a wizard or witch could need. Most held a living room, master bedroom with a large bathroom, two bedrooms, a smaller bathroom, and single bathroom with a toilet for guests. There was a separate kitchen with a pantry and usually two rooms that had no destination. That would be up for their owner(s) to decide.

When they reached the third floor, Harry had already decided that he would stay at the older manor, which was too large for him as it was, so he went back to the drawing board and crafted eight smaller apartments. It had been a hunch, or maybe it was Death who had been bothering him again. Harry stopped questioning the things that happened in his life. Those apartments all held a master bedroom with bathroom, two bedrooms with a guest toilet, a living room that had its kitchen built in, and an empty room included. They were still very spacious, yet a bit more sober.

One tower held an owlery and the other a menagerie for the eagles that Neville had gifted him. The smaller buildings that surrounded the courtyard had no destination yet and the head goblin had ensured him that he could always call upon them to finish the job. Draco had crafted the courtyard and added a big fountain that depicted the tale of the Hallows, courtesy of George.

Harry had dubbed it Hallow manor after seeing the fountain, and Death found it very fitting. So happy for its master that it cast his own protective spells around the premises as well. After a while Luna and Neville had shown up, needing a long vacation away from Dowager Longbottom who had started to age and criticize Neville on his love for the greenhouses. She still wasn’t happy that Neville hadn’t taken his ‘rightful’ position at the Wizengamot. So, he asked Harry if he could work the lands around his manor, to expand his business, and maybe live at peace for a few years with Luna before taking on the mantle as Lord Longbottom.

Harry had wanted to gift them a large apartment at Hallow manor, yet they took one of the wings at Peverell manor, claiming they wanted to stay close to their friend. Luna explored the forest and its inhabitants, Neville crafted a few large greenhouses left of Hallow manor, for his flowers, greenery, potion ingredients that he sold to various potion masters around the world. Luna expanded the larder close to one of the ponds that was not suitable for swimming. She decorated the smaller pound, that they did swim in, with all the beautiful rocks and knickknacks she found or was gifted by the magical animals. The elves were happy with a master that understood the lands and helped Neville whenever they could. In return he helped them on the farms.

Food was the one thing magic would not provide, so most pureblood manors had their own larders, gardens, and farms. Most purebloods would have the house elves look after them, but Neville found it peaceful to also work on them himself so he could oversee it all. Luna bought some goats, chickens, a few cows, and extra pigs for his animal farm and petting zoo.

§§§§§

At the quarry, where Merle hollered for Daryl, Shane had gotten angry at Merle, Shane felt as if it was because Merle was the weird fucker here. However at the present time Merle was tired, fed up, and was itching for a fight, so he locked eyes with the deputy sheriff and did not feel any remorse for his actions. The one lesson he learned from his no good-for-nothing-father. Daryl with his trusty crossbow in hand at his right, both ready to take it home if needed. 

“You motherfucker!” Shane tried to take a swing at Merle but was being held back with great effort by T-Dog and Rick, the new officer friendly. Merle stood straight, an evil yet playful grin on his lips.

“You are crazy!” Shouted the deputy.

“Ai deputy, ya wound ol’ Merle’s hart, ya know that!” Merle smiled viciously at him and looked around the camp. “Y’all wanted to let me die on that roof, wouldn’t you? If the British sunshine hadn’t found me, I would have been. Merle would have been a dried walnut.” Merle was pissed off but laughed at his own joke. He heard the china man snicker, but ignored it for now. He really had no beef with the china man. He might not feel the aftereffects of the drugs anymore, maybe thanks to Hadrian, but he was still angry with the rest of them for just leaving him on that roof. They could have said no, they could have stopped it but they hadn’t and to Merle that made them just as guilty.

“Heya, Merle.” The nigga let go of Shane, who had stopped struggling, but was just being his annoying self, looking like he owned the world. “I’m sorry man, I really am. We were just getting ready to go back, I swear man! I was going back for you, together with Rick here.”

Merle gave the nigga a one-over and squinted. “You hella lucky sunshine found me, Bubbles or I would have ya hide.”

“I’m really sorry man, I really am. I panicked, I did!” stammered T-Dog while looking over the big redneck and his brother with the crossbow still half up, ready for a fight.

“Now, ol’ Merle is feeling rather generous, especially after having a good conversation and a damn sandwich.” Merle’s smile was mean. “We’re good, bubbles, we’re good. Just stay tha fack away from me and Daryl. Gotcha?”

“Yeah man, got it, yeah.” Was all that T-Dog could say with a blush hiding in his features, taking a few steps back from the angry man.

“Now, where are those squirrels ya promised me, my brother dear?” Merle ignored officer friendly, flipped the deputy off, and walked to his part of the camp, Daryl on his tail. They left the drama to the real drama kings and queens. Already hearing Dale trying to assess the situation.

“Ya’re ‘right?” Asked Daryl the moment they reached their tent and camping gear. “Ya’ll look like hell, ya know.”

“I’m fine, Daryl.” They took their places and started working on the squirrels that Daryl had brought back. They would give a few to Carol, the nice lady who had been cooking, and doing their laundry for them. She was nice, but Merle wanted to punch every tooth out of her ugly ass husband’s face, if he could get away with it. He could just feed the man to the Walkers, maybe he should. “I’m better than expected. Mister Brit patched me up, knew a bit about that, and gave me water and food. Just pissed at officer friendly, but nothing to do about that now.”

“Ya still wanna leave?” Daryl cut the best parts of the squirrel skin to dry and took a bucket which he filled with meat, to give to Carol. “I saw the car ya came with.”

“Yeah, sunshine found that. Dunno how, might have told him. I was kinda high at that roof.” Merle realised that he had no memories of anything between the roof and the car but decided not to let a gift get wasted.

“Ya damn idiot!” His younger brother looked at him with a face of annoyance. “The fucking death are walkin’, Merle! Ya could hav’ died!”

“Yeah yeah, don’t get ya panties in a bunch, Darileena, I’m still here.” Merle worked on the meat that his brother had gathered, not speaking about his hayward emotions that rushed through his body. Not realizing what they meant yet. “We wait, use tha car and our supplies for usselves. See where they goin’, alrigh’? Maybe find Sunshine on the way, said he had a home. Might make ourselves useful, yeah?”

“Yeah, sure.”

The Dixon men were not known for their words. They understood each other well by just looking at the other. They knew to keep their guard up, watch over Sophia, maybe Carol, and Merle would see what he could do about that asshole of an Ed. Unconsciously he rubbed at the leather cuff that Hadrian had given him, all the while he idly wondered. What if?

Unbeknownst to him, Harry felt what Merle felt at that moment through the tracker, and smiled while he looked around the war table, something he had not pictured during his last birthday. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think! I hoped you loved it, I did love writing it.


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